


patched you up

by olivja



Series: valentines [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 09:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivja/pseuds/olivja
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first Joly smiled at Bossuet was a long one. (In summation: cigarettes, foot tapping, condoms and lipstick, some stairs, cough medicine, and a first aid kit.)</p><p>Two hundred and twenty seven days later, someone puts out a cigarette and kisses someone hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	patched you up

The first day Joly smiled at Bossuet was a long one.

Bossuet woke up early - the alarm went off at six, but he managed to sleep till nearly seven - skipped a shower to be on time, and managed to miss breakfast. And forgot his wallet.

He didn't mind, though; the sun was high in the sky as he sat on his bus, and the view was nice and he could people watch, even though his hands were cold and he was tired and maybe a little lonely, too. Bossuet's foot tapped against the floor, hat tight on his messily chopped black hair that looked as if it were chopped using a knife. He still had hair, though, so no matter.

Bossuet arrived at work at quarter to seven - early enough that he couldn't really get in any trouble for it, but late enough that Eponine - his coworker and supervisor for the day - scowled at him. Bossuet offered her up a smile anyhow, with a meek, nearly shy wave, and walked to the staff room, unloading his bag (which was, aside from pamphlets on his University for the following year, envelopes of bills to be sent out, and a few books and food wrappers, empty, as he'd forgotten his lunch), and stripped off his coat. Hanging it on a hook and stuffing his backpack in a cubby, Bossuet fished his apron out of the cubby hole and slipped it over his head, tying the belt of it behind his back.

Bossuet began stocking shelves - the day before there was an influx of people buying hand sanitizer, for whatever reason, and the shelf was nearly empty. It was mundane work, simply stacking bottles of sanitizer in rows. But it was easy, and it was difficult to mess up, and there wasn't anyone over his shoulder, so Bossuet was happy enough, beginning to whistle a tune as best he could. (He could only hit one note when he whistled, and it left him breathless, but he enjoyed it, anyhow.)

After stacking shelves (and, okay, accidentally knocking a few over), Bossuet took over cashier, and stood across from Eponine. She was much more efficient than he was, he thought - she was a better worker and she didn't even have to try as hard as Bossuet, but he knew she did. With a small brother at home to feed with only her responsible for him, Bossuet knew she did her best. He did, too.

After nearly an hour of silence - save for a couple of customers coming in for both condoms and lipstick (Bossuet had exchanged a look with Eponine at this, and had to chew on his cheek to keep from laughing out loud), Eponine finally looked over at Bossuet, who still had his cap on and who was pressing random buttons on the cash register out of boredom. Her thin lips turned up into a smile, and she called his name.

"Bossuet."

He perked up immediately, grinning at Eponine. He leaned against the small counter of the register with his hands, his hip cocked. "Yeah?"

"Guess what," she prompted, batting her eyelashes in the way Bossuet recognized.

He let out a whine. "C'mon. What story do you have for me today?"

Eponine gnawed down on her bottom lip - chapped and dry from such a habit - and grinned. "Okay. Fine. You're so bad at guessing," she shook her head, and Bossuet laughed. "Okay, so, you know how there was zero hand sanitizer?"

Bossuet's eyebrows furrowed, and his lips overturned into a frown. "Uh - yeah. Okay…" This wasn't the sort of story Eponine usually told. Generally, he heard more about men grabbing at her when they'd had too much to drink or running into members of the gang her Father (who she refused to speak to) ran. The telling of the latter usually resulted in Eponine curled up in Bossuet's lap, hugging him as tight as possible. Bossuet didn't mind her telling these stories, really. It was good to know someone could talk to you about something that scared them.

"Alright - so yesterday at, like, almost midnight, this dude comes in and he looks like he's about to puke and - get this -" Eponine grinned. It made Bossuet smile along with her. "He got a cart and he just filled it with cough medicine, band-aids, first-aid kits, popsicle sticks - the ones for, like, doctors appointments, and, for the most part, hand sanitizer." Eponine nodded, satisfied with her recounting of the tale.

Bossuet coughed, tapping his foot. "Wait - all of it?"

Eponine nodded. "Yeah. He was totally strung out, I swear - or he was cooking." Bossuet knew the term - Eponine had used it for one of the 'businesses' her Father was well known for.

"That's weird." He let out a small 'hm' noise, considering what she's said.

"Yeah - sucks, too - the guy was sort of cute. In a 'wow-I-really-look-quite-ill-I-might-pass-out-or-die-but-I've-got-great-hair' way."

"Well. You're quite the raconteur, eh, 'Ponine?"

She grinned, pleased with the compliment. Neither spoke until a customer with a crying baby came asking for the key to the washroom. Bossuet ended up having to clean up a mess of baby powder after.

When Bossuet's lunch break finally came, he decided on wasting his hour going for a walk. He didn't have a lunch, after all; and he didn't want to waste the money that was already tight on a small meal. So, Bossuet pulled his coat on, gave Eponine a kiss on the cheek as she waited for her noodles to heat in the shitty microwave, and set out. He walked by the University, taking a few moments to just stare at the building. After all Bossuet had been through, it was nice to stare at such a magnificent place and be able to promise himself it was in his future. He walked through pathways of it, and was on his way back to work - he still had half an hour - when he slipped on stairs face-first, knees and hands skidding on the concrete steps.

He was rolling himself onto his ass, wincing in pain, when someone knelt in front of him.

"Are you alright?"

Bossuet's eyebrows furrowed, and he cocked his head. A pale, tall, skinny man was in front of him, and he had his hands on a bag that rested on his hip. He seemed to be evaluating Bossuet's pupils.

"Um - yes?" Bossuet laughed awkwardly.

"Sorry. I just - I mean - I saw you - fall so I - well, I mean - I thought I'd help - you didn't hit your head - which is good - but your hands - and your knee, I - can help - ?" The man rambled on quickly, seeming to get a jumble of words out without many breaths. Bossuet laughed again, but less awkwardly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I fall a lot."

The man grinned, too, revealing a gap between his teeth. Bossuet forced his eyes back to meet the man's.

"I'm sure you are - but I could - uh - fix up your knees. And your hands, too. If - I mean - if you want," he nodded, gesturing to Bossuet's knees and hands.

Bossuet leaned back against the step, and nodded, smiling. "Yeah."

The two walked - well, the man walked, Bossuet mostly hopped - to a near bench. The man's hands seemed to be permanently stuck tugging at his hair; it seemed to be gravity-defying it was such a habit.

Once sitting down, the man went about unpacking a kit from his bag - it seemed to be a Mary Poppins sort of bag, and Bossuet had to quell the urge to ask what else he had in there. Be normal, he reminded himself.

The man got out a pair of tweezers and, without flinching, began picking pieces of rocks from Bossuet's knees. He let out a loud, embarrassing yelp; the man only grinned, and continued on. Bossuet supposed this was kind of him - it made sure the work was done fast. He bandaged up Bossuet's knees, wrapping gauze around them, and then sanitized (using rubbing alcohol) his palms and bandaged them, too.

Throughout this process, Bossuet was in a state of shock. Things like this didn't just happen to him, really, and he fell quite often.

"Why all the kit?" Bossuet finally asked.

"Pre-med student."

Bossuet nodded. "Are you going here?" He pointed to the University Building.

He nodded. "Yeah. Starting in the fall."

Bossuet nodded. "I'm going for pre-law. Might see you." He grinned, despite himself.

The man shrugged. "Maybe." He packed up his things quickly, nodded at Bossuet, and walked away quickly.

It was only after he sat on the bench for five minute staring at the place the man had kneeled that Bossuet realized he hadn't asked his name.

He began the long walk back to work, happy to not have to worry about an infection.

Eponine teased about the bandages, and he stuck his tongue out at her.

"You fall again?"

Bossuet nodded. "Of course."

Eponine grinned, biting down on her tongue. "Who provided the bandages? Sexy nurse?"

Bossuet laughed. "No. Some random pre-med student stitched me back up."

Eponine squinted at him. "Yeah?"

Bossuet raised his arms. "I don't know what you're trying to get at -"

"Nothing, nothing," Eponine shook her head, though she bit down on her tongue.

A few hours passed mundanely - Bossuet took another break, and slowly smoked a cigarette on the front step of the pharmacy. Eponine bummed a cigarette and sang a bit. Bossuet whistled off-key, and tapped his foot.

It neared time for closing, and Eponine had her bag packed and at her feet - ready to sprint the moment they were allowed to close.

But a bell signalled that they had one late customer, and Eponine let out a groan, content to begin kicking the stand the register sat on. (She'd been reprimanded for this, but people found it was either this habit or she'd begin breaking things.)

The customer made his way into their line of sight, and Eponine perked up immediately, gesturing to Bossuet - who seemed to be half-asleep standing up.

"Bossuet!" she hissed.

He perked up slightly, but his eyes were still hazy.

"It's him! Bossuet, it's the guy!" Bossuet looked to where Eponine pointed, and, for no particular reason at all, broke out into a wide smile.

"Hey," Bossuet said aloud, tapping his foot more quickly.

The man turned on his heel and smiled at the sight of Bossuet. "Hey." He looked to Bossuet's hands. "You alright?"

Bossuet nodded. "Yeah. I mean, she's -" he pointed to Eponine, "been making fun of me, but that's the usual".

This seemed to give Eponine the confidence to speak up. "What are you here for?" she blurted out. Bossuet gave her a look that warned her to go over her words. "I - mean, uh - you just bought a lot yesterday."

The man didn't seem alarmed or embarrassed. He just shrugged. "I just moved to Paris yesterday, so I stocked up. And I needed some new bandages -" here, the man pointed to Bossuet, smiling. "I don't like being low on supplies. Just makes me feel not right." He shrugged.

This seemed argument enough for Eponine, and she piped down. Though, despite her tongue being kept docile, her eyes flicked between the man - scanning through the aisles for what he wanted - and Bossuet, whose eyes seemed to stay on the man.

When he finally had his bandages (he ended up getting juice and cough medicine and strep throat medicine, too), he came to Bossuet's register, and it made him grin. Bossuet's foot tapped as he rang through all of the man's items. The man swiped his card, stuffed his items in his bag, signed his receipt, and walked away quickly.

Again, he'd escaped before Bossuet could introduce himself.

But - and this had been Eponine's idea - he checked the receipt. The cardholder's name was Benjamin Alain Joly, but the man had signed it with just Joly.

Bossuet decided he liked that.

The next morning, Bossuet decided to walk through the University's grounds again, a cigarette between his teeth and a skip in his step. His hat snug over his short, chopped hair, he felt good - happy.

And so when he - quite literally - walked into Benjamin Alain Joly and knocked the man's books over, the mood didn't leave. He just smiled wider.

He helped Joly pick up his books, and the man grinned, thanking him multiple times.

"Least I can do," he gestured to his hands, his knees. "You patched me up."

The man's head cocked. "Yeah. Suppose I did." He offered his hand. "Joly."

Bossuet smiled - he felt like he was running into an old friend - or a lover, even - who he hadn't seen for years, who he had fond memories of and who he had loved, maybe, once. Bossuet smiled so wide it would hurt his cheeks later.

"David Remy Antoine Matthieu Lesgle de Meaux."

Joly nodded, laughing at the long name. "Alright. David, then?"

Bossuet shook his head. "Bossuet."

Joly nodded, squeezing his hand before letting go. "It's nice to see you again." He looked to the cigarette in Bossuet's mouth. "That'll kill you, you know."

Bossuet nodded, and shrugged. "I know." At a slight tapping noise, he looked to the ground. Joly's foot tapped against the ground, much like Bossuet's, and upon seeing this, Bossuet couldn't stop his cheeks from flushing. And secretly, in a not-so-dark, not-so-secret crevice of his mind, a thought came to him untamed. I've been waiting for you for an awfully long time. Haven't I?

It was two hundred and twenty seven days later that Joly kissed Bossuet.

Outside of a party wherein both had drinken too much (but not enough that they didn't know what they were doing), Bossuet lit a cigarette and Joly put it out in a second, holding Bossuet still and kissing him. Hard.

It was almost nine months after that they finally kissed a second time. And a third. And a hundredth.

Joly kissed him with his hands too tight in his hair and it always left him breathless, but Bossuet enjoyed it anyhow.


End file.
